


Currents Will Shift

by cedarcliffe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest, Weechesters, Wincest - Freeform, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-04
Updated: 2011-10-04
Packaged: 2017-10-24 07:22:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/260618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cedarcliffe/pseuds/cedarcliffe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam remembers that time, that very first time. Drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Currents Will Shift

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Pearl Jam's Oceans.

Sam remembers that time, that very first time, fifteen and nosing up beneath Dean's stubble-rough jaw to cover the patch of thin skin beneath his ear with his mouth.

It wasn't quite surprising, wasn't exactly new. Wasn't nearly the shock it might've ( _should've_ ) been. They'd made overtures before, take-it-or-leave-it touches that could be shrugged off, forgotten. Hands on hips and fingers on faces, slipping up below shirts to slap at sweat-sticky bellies, tugging one another back and forth by their belt loops, wrestling on rough carpets and soft beds, bodies locked together, wriggling, struggling, fighting in only the most cursory sense, snarling,  _Get offa me_ , and  _Fuck you,_  and  _Don't_ , and  _Dean,_  and  _Sam_.

They were just brothers, just fucking around.

Until they were just-brothers just  _fucking around_.

Sam felt Dean's pulse jump under his tongue as he trailed his lips across his throat, heard him suck in a harsh breath. He rose up with Dean's chest, half on his brother, half off, fingers splayed across his shoulder and elbow resting on his ribs, the other arm tucked awkwardly against his side (and how strange that  _that_  was the only awkward thing about this new game they were suddenly playing). Warm puff of air tickling his hair, a palm pressing down on the base of his spine. The musty smell of the coverlet tickling his nose when Dean rolled him onto his back. The musky smell of his brother everywhere,  _always_ , sweat and gun oil and something more. Dean's knee between Sam's thighs, Sam's knee between Dean's, a sound between them both like glass bending, creaking, on the verge of breaking, and maybe it was him and maybe it was Dean, or maybe it was just what they were doing -- shattering every rule, shooting across every boundary.

Maybe things this right (this  _wrong_ ) made their own noise in the universe.

Sam remembers the way it felt, when Dean bit into his collarbone, the way his voice buzzed through his teeth. Not unlike the time Dean leapt off a cliff and into the sea, Sam tumbling to the dirt behind him to peer over the edge in abject horror. It had been so far away, the churning water, too dark beneath the grey foam, and he counted his heartbeats in his stomach waiting for Dean to come up again, imagining his brother impaled on jagged black rocks, or dragged away by a ripping tide.

Dean's nails in his side, Dean breaking the surface. Both of them gasping relief, pulses pounding.

Sam into the ocean. Dean into Sam.

They'd always followed each other over their edges.


End file.
